


Melting The Ice King (JohnLock AU)

by Sini333



Category: Sherlock Holmes - fandom, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Captain John Watson, Eventual Smut, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Pornstars, Sherlock is a Sex God
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 02:38:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10822014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sini333/pseuds/Sini333
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is one of the top gay pornstars in the industry. He is known for being cold and uncaring, one of the most attractive young stars out there. John Watson is a popular new-comer to the porn industry, known by his persona; Captain Watson. When they get slotted to work together, sparks fly.





	1. Captain Watson

**Author's Note:**

> Here is another AU story!!! Hope you like it!!! Enjoy<3

John was nervous. It wasn’t as though this was his first big production, he had been asked to do a few bigger films now, but for some reason this one was freaking him out. He read the paper he had been clinging to again, making sure he was reading it right.

They had slotted him with Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock Holmes was practically a god in the industry, and they wanted him to work with him. John took a steadying breath before making his way into the studio. He had been asked to head straight for room 221B for prep, and he felt himself relax.

He didn’t mind the prep, having his hair and makeup done, being shown what was expected of him and where he was supposed to go. He found it relaxing.

His mind flashed back to when he used to make his own videos, before he got picked up by one of the bigger companies. Apparently, there was a high demand for short, blonde, ex-soldier types that had high stamina, and a knack for calling out orders.

He stopped in front of the door marked 221B and absently rubbed at his shoulder before knocking.

A small, mousy young woman, not much older than himself, answered, her face splitting into a grin when she saw him.

“Hi! You must be John.” She held out her hand, her voice coming out much softer than John would have thought. He took her hand and almost yelped as she yanked him into the room. “Sorry, I’m Molly. It’s cold out there and our heater just broke so His Highness doesn’t want the door open for too long.”

“I-It’s alright-”

“Good!” She scurried behind him, pushing him forward until he almost ran into one of the makeup chairs. “Sorry again, I just need to get you prepped. The producers have a stick up their ass today because His Royal Pain pissed them off again. Take a seat and I’ll go get my stuff.” John took a seat as asked and placed his bookbag on the ground, glancing around the room.

“His Royal Pain?”

“Yeah, Sherlock. I swear, he is the most difficult man I have ever had the misfortune to work with.” John swallowed another flare of nerves. “Do you happen to know your shade? I don’t remember where I left your coding sheet.”

“Uh, yeah. I think I have it written in my book somewhere.” He reached down and grabbed his bag again, fumbling with the zip and tugging out his notebook. He always kept all his codes and information written down, just in case. He handed it to Molly before setting his bag back down.

“G-87.” A new voice came from the sofa in the corner, causing John to jump slightly. He glanced over, watching as the fabric of the sofa moved. There was someone stretched out on the furniture.

“W-What?”

“G-87. That’s your shade, correct?” John looked back at Molly helplessly, unsure how to respond. She picked up a makeup brush and threw it at the sofa. A head of dark curls popped up from one of the ends, a low whine sounding from the figure. “Stop throwing things! You’re going to bruise me!”

“It’s a makeup brush you big baby! Now, stop being rude. You’re scaring John.”

“He’s not-” The figure groaned, and suddenly John realized who it was. Molly had just thrown a makeup brush at Sherlock Holmes.

“Was I right at least?” Sherlock asked, his voice sending a thrill along John’s spine, one he hadn’t felt since before he left the army. He brushed aside thoughts of his former commander and focused on not trembling.

He ducked as a book flew towards Sherlock.

“Ow! Damnit Molly Hooper!” Sherlock shouted, whipping off the sofa and tripping, falling unceremoniously to the floor. The medical training in John kicked in and he leapt to Sherlock’s aid, gripping his arm and pulling the mass of limbs and curls up. The lanky man stood, looking pissed and furiously straightening his dressing gown. He glared over John’s head at Molly, pushing John out of the way and stalking over to the mousy girl. “What the fuck?”

“You’re being rude! Do you have any idea how much shit you’ve caused today? If you scare him off you will lose your contract.”

“How was I being rude?”

“You haven’t even said hello to the man you are going to be fucking in a few hours!” Sherlock growled, spinning to face John and snapping a hello at him. John felt a flash of irritation, not used to people treating him this way. He was about to say something when he saw Sherlock visibly freeze, his shoulders tightening and his head springing up.

Confusion flared through him when he caught the cheeky grin that flashed over Molly’s face.

Sherlock spun back to face him, this time looking curious and slightly flustered. John watched as a blush seemed to take over the pale skin of Sherlock’s neck and face, making him look younger and more approachable.

“I-I- I apologize for my behaviour, Captain Watson.” Sherlock seemed to stumble over his words, looking incredibly embarrassed. John smirked and shook his head, reaching his hand out towards the taller man.

“It’s alright. You can call me John when we aren’t filming.” Sherlock looked at his hand, then back up at him, his eyes wide and lips parted in shock. “Something wrong? No touching before filming or something?” John asked, unable to hide the amusement in his voice. Sherlock blinked rapidly and snapped his jaw shut, straightening his posture. He reached out and shook John’s hand, his fingers colder and rougher that John had pictured.

“Sorry, John. I’m Sherlock.”

“Oh, I know who you are.” Sherlock blushed, pulling his hand away from John and glancing at the floor. John blinked in shock, registering Sherlock’s behaviour. He was acting like a little boy that just met his idol. John decided to test his theory. “I’ve seen your work, you’re pretty good.” He winked, sending a flush over the pale man’s cheeks. Sherlock stared at him for a long while, seemingly frozen.

“Sorry to interrupt this little eye fucking session, but I have to get John ready for the actual fucking session.” John blushed this time as he remembered why exactly he was here, talking to Sherlock Holmes. “John, I need you in the chair.” He nodded and forced himself to return to his seat. “Shirt off please.”

“M-My shirt?” John hesitated, rubbing at his shoulder and fidgeting. He normally didn’t have an issue with people seeing his scar, but Sherlock Holmes was still watching him.

Sherlock Holmes was the definition of perfect, and John was a short, scarred ex-soldier with PTSD and a messed-up shoulder.

“Yes. Problem?” He saw Sherlock studying him in the mirror and chewed at his bottom lip, shaking his head and tugging the shirt over his head. As soon as it was off, he covered his shoulder with his hand, massaging the muscle absentmindedly.

“Afghanistan or Iraq?” Sherlock’s deep voice pulled John from his self-loathing.

“W-What?”

“Afghanistan or Iraq? Where did you serve?”

“A-Afghanistan. Wait, how did you-”

“You wear registration army fatigues in your soldier kink videos, and you carry yourself like a soldier, even when you aren’t filming. Your haircut is only slightly longer than regulation, you prefer it longer but don’t like change, so you keep it at this length. That injury was made by a large gun, sniper rifle probably. You aren’t old enough to have been a cop, so that leaves army.” John blinked at the young man behind him, holding his gaze in the mirror. Sherlock blushed and looked away, glancing around the room as though avoiding John’s eyes.

“How did you do that?” John couldn’t hide the awe in his voice.

“Sorry. It’s just a stupid trick. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No! No, it’s fine. That was cool. No one ever guesses that I was really in the army. They just assume the scar is fake.”

“People are idiots.” John laughed, feeling less self-conscious as Molly started his makeup. “You have no need to be ashamed of your scar, John. It’s-” Sherlock blushed deeper, shuffling his feet and tugging at his sleeves. “I-It’s-”

“He thinks it’s hot.”

“Molly!” Sherlock growled at the girl, causing her to laugh. John flushed, trying to hide his face, but getting his hands swatted by Molly.

“What? John is smart, there is no way he can’t see-”

“Molly, I swear to fucking God!”

“I don’t have time for this Sherlock. Now, stop distracting John. I have to finish his makeup.” Sherlock flushed and clenched his fists, looking incredibly uncomfortable. John smirked at him in the mirror, feeling a spark of affection for the young man.

“If it’s any constellation, I think you’re hot too.” John winked at Sherlock, enjoying the shock that took over the tall man’s face.

A new man poked his head into the room, waving at John and Molly before turning his attention to Sherlock.

“Hey Sherlock, they need to start getting you ready for the scene.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Sherlock-”

“Five minutes!” The man looked irritated, but left. Sherlock gave a self-satisfied smile at the now-closed door before turning around, stepping closer to John and waving Molly aside. He spun John’s chair around, leaning down until he was inches away from John’s face.

John swallowed nervously, fighting to keep his eyes trained on Sherlock’s.

Sherlock dropped his hand to John’s scar, gently caressing the damaged skin. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the mark, the simple action sent sparks along John’s spine. He gasped as Sherlock sucked ever so lightly on the skin, the sensitive nerve endings tingling. No one ever acknowledged his scar, mainly just ignoring it in favor of other parts.

“Hmm, so the scar is sensitive? Good to know.” Sherlock’s voice had gone deep and husky, and John felt arousal pooling in his stomach. “I shall take that into account while I’m fucking you, Captain Watson.” John whimpered, he had filmed with lots of guys before, but none of them had made him feel quite like this before.

Sherlock grinned darkly at him before capturing his lips in a kiss that felt like fire. John moaned into the kiss, running his fingers through Sherlock’s dark curls and slipping his tongue into Sherlock’s mouth. The young man pulled away, slightly breathless and flushed.

“Oh, I think I’m going to enjoy this.” He whispered, kissing John softly before straightening up and walking towards the door. John watched, trying to collect himself enough to respond. “I’ll see you soon, Captain.” Sherlock winked and spun out of the room, leaving John more flustered than he could ever remember being.


	2. The Shoot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note...I know nothing about the porn industry so if I have some details wrong about how it works I apologize...Enjoy<3

As much as John enjoyed the prep, he hated the awkward minutes leading up to filming. Those moments when he was passed around, inspected by the directors and instructed on what to do.

“So, you’re Captain Watson?” The same man that had summoned Sherlock earlier asked, glancing at him as he nodded. “Good, you and Sherlock will start out over by the mirror. Don’t really have much by means of a script, so just go with whatever flows.”

“No script? That’s a little strange. How’d you swing that?”

“My brother is a rather significant investor in this company.” The now-familiar voice of his co-star caused John to jump slightly, spinning to face the pale man. “Kind of gives me a fair bit of pull.” Sherlock winked, a mischievous grin pulling at his lips.

“Y-Your brother funds your pornos?”

“Yes. He has a crippling need to monitor me, so I made a deal with him. He gets to be involved in this area of my life and I make it home for Sunday dinners.”

“That’s a little weird.”

“Yes, well, you’ve never met my brother.”

“As much as I am enjoying the chemistry between you two, we need to get started.” The man with the clipboard said, sounding irritated.

“Why are you in such a foul mood today Gavin?” Sherlock snapped, earning a harsh glare from the man.

“Because you came in this morning with a stick up your ass and pissed off the directors. And please stop calling me that.”

“Calling you what?”

“Gavin. We have known each other for five years.”

“Gavin isn’t your name?”

“Fucking hell man! It’s Greg!” The man stormed off, looking incredibly pissed. Sherlock grinned smugly, turning back to face John.

“You’ve been doing this for five years?” John blanched slightly at the thought of being in the industry for that long.

“No. I’ve known him for five years. I’ve been doing this for three.” John fought the urge to physically react. Sherlock was so young, he must have been barely eighteen when he started. “I’m not as young as I look John.” At John’s confused expression, Sherlock winked, placing his hands on John’s hips and pulling the shorter man closer. “Everyone always reacts the same when they find out how long I have been filming.” John fought every fibre of his being to not pull Sherlock down and snog his brains out. “Just try to contain yourself for another few minutes Captain Watson.” Sherlock’s voice got dark and he leaned down, his lips brushing against John’s ear as he spoke. “I guarantee you it will be worth the wait.” John felt his knees get weak and he whimpered.

“Jesus fuck-”

“Not quite Captain.” John giggled, swatting Sherlock lightly on the arm. He was still lightheaded from Sherlock’s words. “I think they’re ready for us.”

“About fucking time.” They hesitated before breaking down into a fit of giggles. This was going to be interesting.

 

 

Filming with Sherlock Holmes turned out to be one of the greatest things John had ever done. The chemistry between them was electric, and the directors only called for a re-shoot on two of the shots. John really didn’t mind re-doing the scenes either, seeing as it only meant he got to be with Sherlock longer.

They had a natural dynamic, John easily slipping into a slightly less dominant role. It should have felt off, seeing as how he always was the dom when filming, but with Sherlock, it felt right.

Sherlock had a natural grace that showed through even while filming. John was sure he had never seen someone look as gorgeous as Sherlock did while giving head. What made it harder to fathom was just how good the pale man was at it. John had to stop him twice to prevent finishing too early.

It was an all-day shoot, and by the end of it, John was exhausted.

He was changing back into his street clothes when he caught sight of Sherlock in the mirror behind him. He quickly did up his trousers, blushing deeply and grabbing for his shirt.

“Really John? You’re choosing now to become shy?” He glared at Sherlock, pulling his shirt on. “I literally came all over your chest less than twenty minutes ago, I’m fairly certain we can bypass any pesky shyness.” Sherlock was leaning against the door frame, dressed in an expensive looking suit that had been tailored to fit him perfectly. His curls had been styled and other than the rather impressive bruise peaking out from the collar, there was no sign of his previous activities.

He looked flawless.

“Sorry, I’m just not comfortable with people watching me change.”

“But you’re okay with them watching you-”

“I get it! What’s up?” Sherlock smirked, stepping closer to John and brushing something off his shoulder.

“I just wanted to tell you that I thoroughly enjoyed filming with you today.” His voice was soft and sincere as he brushed his fingers along John’s cheekbone.

“I enjoyed it too.” John couldn’t seem to speak any louder than a whisper, getting lost in the eyes of the taller man. Sherlock smiled and leaned down, capturing John’s lips in a gentle kiss.

“I have a feeling we will be doing this again very soon, Captain Watson.” Sherlock pulled away, sauntering out of the room without so much as a glance behind him.

John hoped he was right.


	3. The Call-Back

John flinched when his phone rang loudly, scrambling to find it in his pocket, flushing as an older lady glared at him. He was in a coffee shop working on his book, the one he had been trying to write for a couple of years.

“Hello?”

“Is this John Watson?”

“Who’s asking?”

“This is Mycroft Holmes, I believe you met my little brother a while back?” John flushed and fidgeted in his seat as memories of Sherlock assaulted him. He cleared his throat and glanced around, knowing his discomfort was unfounded, but still couldn’t help it.

“Y-Yeah, um, this is John. What’s up?”

“Well, were you made aware of your films ratings?”

“No. At least not that I know of. Why? Is there a problem?”

“No, quite the opposite actually. Your film with my brother is proving to be one of the highest rated films either of you have produced this year. The casting board was wondering if you would return to do a follow-up film?” John almost choked on his tea, the excitement bubbling over almost instantly. He coughed as the fluid burned his throat. “Mr. Watson? Are you alright?”

“Yeah- yeah sorry, sorry, just choked on my tea there. Y-You want me to come back?” John had never gotten re-cast before, and to get a call-back to film with Sherlock Holmes again was even better.

“Yes. If that is agreeable I will have the details sent to your apartment.”

“Yeah, that works. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me Mr. Watson. Thank my brother.” The line went dead, and John had to physically stop himself from jumping up and down. He had barely stopped thinking about Sherlock since they had filmed, and now he was going to get to film with him again.

He quickly packed up his computer and left the store, unable to sit still any more.

 

 

The paperwork had arrived the next day, and by the end of the week, John was back at the studio, being prepped for filming.

“Where’s Sherlock?” He asked Molly. She was in a slightly better mood this time, but still grumpy.

“Don’t know. Hasn’t shown yet.”

“He usually late?”

“Nope.”

“You aren’t concerned?”

“That’s not my job. Its not the first time he has bailed on filming.” John felt a flare of concern for the younger man and suddenly wished he had gotten Sherlock’s number. He was about to ask if Molly had it when her phone went off.

“Hello? Sher? Where the hell are you? Yes. Yes, he is. Hold on.” She handed the phone to John, looking suddenly very concerned. “He wants to talk to you.” John grabbed the phone, fighting the swell of nerves that gripped his chest.

“Sherlock?”

“John! Thank heavens! You were a doctor in the army, correct?” John felt his throat close in fear at those words. Sherlock sounded strained and breathless.

“Yes. What’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I-In the alley. Outside the studio. Please hurry.”

“I’ll be right there.” John handed Molly her phone back and jumped from the chair, grabbing his bag and throwing his shirt back on. “Tell the director’s that something happened and we’ll be back.” He shouted behind him as he ran.

 

He found the alley that Sherlock said he would be in, coming to a stop as he took in the sight before him.

Sherlock was pressed against the brick, a pair of large men pinning him there. His lip was broken and bleeding and his eye was bruised.

“Sherlock?” The pair of men glanced at John, their nasty smirks growing when they saw him.

“Oh, look at that. The Ice King’s little Captain has come to save him.” The taller of the two snarked, sending John’s soldier instinct into overdrive. He straightened, reaching into his bag and instantly finding the pistol he kept hidden there. “Come on Captain Watson, make him squeal like you did in the video.” John clenched his jaw and readied himself for a fight.

“Let him go, and fuck off.” He deepened his voice, barking out the command in the same manor that he used to command soldiers. The men grinned, letting go of Sherlock and letting him slump to the ground. They stalked towards John, trying to intimidate him.

“Look at the little porn star, trying to play the soldier outside the studio. How adorable.” John grinned and pulled out his gun, clocking the weapon and aiming it at the men.

“Yeah, here’s the thing; My name is Captain John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, and if you two don’t walk away right now, I will blow a hole in your fucking heads.” The pair froze for a moment before continuing towards him.

He pointed the gun to the point just before their feet and fired.

“Tempt me again!” He shouted, aiming at their heads.

This time, they turned and ran.

Once they were gone, John ran to Sherlock. He pulled the younger man into his arms, checking his vitals as best he could.

“Hey, Sherlock? Sherlock, talk to me. Come on Gorgeous, wake up.” Sherlock was unconscious, lying limply in John’s arms. The soldier stood, carrying the pale man in his arms as he hurried towards the near-empty street.

He had to get to a hospital.


	4. The Worst Patient

Sherlock had a concussion, three cracked ribs and a laceration on his stomach that required stitches. It also turned out that the great Mr. Sherlock Holmes was one of the worst patients John had ever seen. Once he woke up, he immediately started whining and throwing a tantrum of epic proportions.

After Sherlock made a third nurse cry, John insisted that they let him take the young man home. He showed his credentials and convinced the staff that he was more than capable of handling the petulant man on his own.

He helped Sherlock limp to the curb and hailed a cab. Sherlock told the driver the address and John checked the bandages on the laceration. The whole ride home, Sherlock’s hands kept wandering too far up John’s thigh, pulling at his shirt and trying to unbuckle his belt.

“Sherlock, stop.”

“But John-”

“No. We are almost to your flat, then you need to rest.” Sherlock protested, nuzzling his face against John’s neck and sucking on the skin there. John pushed him off gently and helped him out of the now-stopped cab. “Do you have your keys?”

“No. I must have dropped them.” Sherlock mumbled, stumbling to the black door and pounding on it. “My Landlady should be home.” Sure enough, the door swung open to reveal a sweet older lady.

“Sherlock? Oh dear! What happened?”

“Mrs. Hudson. I’ve lost my key; will you please ensure my door is unlocked?”

“Of course, Dear. How on Earth did you manage to lose another key?”

“I’m sorry, I must have dropped it while I was being assaulted in the fucking alley!”

“Stop with the attitude or I will leave you out here to freeze.” Mrs. Hudson finally seemed to notice John, waving the boys in and leading them up the stairs. “Good to finally meet you Captain.” John flushed darkly as he realized that the lady knew who he was.

“Y-You know me?”

“Oh, yes dear, Sherlock is very open about his work. Came down to my apartment all in a flurry when he was slotted to work with you last month. Made me sit through one of your shorter videos.” John’s cheeks burned hotter than ever.

“Please shut up, Mrs. Hudson.” Sherlock looked as embarrassed as John felt as he stumbled into his flat.

“I’ll make you some tea-”

“No, thank you Mrs. Hudson, we will be quite alright.”

“Alright Dears, just call if you need anything.”

“Thought you weren’t my housekeeper?”

“I’m not, but I am the only person in this house that seems to know anything about hospitality.” She snapped before leaving, Sherlock latched the door behind her, before spinning to face John.

John had to catch him before he hit the floor.

“Jesus, Sherlock.” He propped the lanky man against the door, taking care to avoid jostling his ribs. Sherlock leaned against him, pulling him close and latching on to John’s pulse point, biting and sucking hard. It took all his willpower to pull himself out of Sherlock’s grasp. “Sherlock, come on. Let’s get you to bed.” He batted the pale man’s hands away from his trousers and slipped under his arm, trying to haul the pile of limbs towards the bedroom.

“But John, I have been looking forward to fucking you all week-”

“I know, but you can’t. Not with three broken ribs and a concussion-” His words were cut short as Sherlock spun him around and pinned him against the nearest wall. He winced as his head struck the unforgiving surface, but any protest he may have had was kissed away by the skilled lips of Sherlock Holmes.

He had almost forgotten how good the other man was at kissing. He was just about to lose himself in the feel of Sherlock when his mind was snapped back to reality as his fingers caught on the bandages covering the pale, broken ribs. He forced Sherlock off him, holding him at arms length while he fought to catch his breath.

“John-”

“No Sherlock. No, we- we can’t.” The pale man blushed, stepping back slightly. John watched hurt fill the pale eyes of his friend.

“I understand. Thank you for your assistance Mr. Watson.” He started to turn away, promptly tripping on the carpet and nearly falling. John caught him by the arm and spun them around, this time, Sherlock was the one pinned.

“No, you stupid git. I never said I didn’t want to, because God, I do.” He was still slightly breathless and couldn’t resist leaning in and kissing the younger man’s pale neck. “You have a minor concussion, three broken ribs and an open wound. Sex will cause more harm than good.”

“There are positions that-”

“Sherlock!” John pulled out his Captain’s voice and instantly saw the change in the young man’s demeanor. “I can’t put you through that. It will hurt more than necessary and you won’t enjoy it. You’re already in pain just from a little snogging.”

“But-”

“No. I’m taking you to bed, then you are going to get lots of rest. Then, once you’ve healed, I will let you do whatever you want to me. Deal?” Sherlock’s eyes darkened, and he leaned forward, trying to kiss John again. The doctor pushed him back, pulling an irritated whine from the young man. “Deal? If you don’t behave I will take sex off the table, understand?” Sherlock froze before nodding, his face darkening. “Understand?”

“Y-Yes John.”

“Good enough. Now, come on, lets get you to bed.” He pulled Sherlock off the wall and led him down the hall.

He helped the younger man undress and pull on his pajama bottoms before helping him into the bed. He placed some painkillers on his nightstand next to a glass of water before standing up to leave.

“I’ll come by and check on you tomorrow.”

“Stay.” The word was soft, almost inaudible, but it froze John in his tracks.

“Sorry?”

“Stay. Please.” He smiled down at the broken man in the bed, running his fingers through the messy curls and nodding.

“Alright. I’ll sleep on the sofa, call if you-”

“You can sleep in here. I-If you want.” Sherlock sounded like a little boy, embarrassed and unsure.

“I would love too, but I know that if I do, you won’t keep your hands to yourself and I don’t have the willpower to stop you again.” Sherlock grinned up at him, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Not until your concussion is gone and your ribs don’t hurt as much alright? I’ll be fine on the sofa.”

“But-”

“Sherlock.” He filled his tone with warning and the young man stopped instantly.

“Fine, but if you insist on not sleeping here, there is a spare bedroom just up the stairs. There is lab equipment on the bed, just set it on the floor for now.” John nodded and grabbed Sherlock’s cell, quickly entering his phone number.

“Sounds good, call or text if you need anything.” He was almost out of the room when he heard Sherlock’s soft voice calling his name.

“John?”

“Yes Sherlock?”

“Thank you.” John smiled fondly at the young man, unable to contain the spark of affection that lit in his chest.

“Goodnight Gorgeous.”


	5. Tell Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT WARNING!!!!!

“Sherlock! For fucks sake!” John shouted, ducking as the young man fired another shot into the wall above his head. He sprung up and grabbed the gun from Sherlock’s hand, disengaging the weapon with ease and placing it back in his bookbag. “I told you not to take that! It’s not registered, I could get arrested.”

“I’m bored John!”

“I know you’re bored, but you don’t seem to like any of my suggestions. What do you want to do?” John yelped as Sherlock gripped his arm and pulled him back onto his lap. The pale man latched onto his neck, nipping at the skin and pulling a soft, needy sound from John’s throat.

“Other than you? Nothing at all.” John grinned and adjusted his position on Sherlock’s lap, giving the younger man better access to his neck. Sherlock’s condition had improved quite a bit over the past few weeks, but John was still slightly hesitant when it came to physical activities. The laceration on his stomach was still mostly open, mainly since Sherlock kept ripping the stitches open.

“S-Sherlock-”

“Hmm. I love how sensitive you are Captain Watson. It makes me want to see what kinds of sounds I can get you to make if I take my time.” John whimpered as Sherlock bit down on his pulse point. He moved so he was straddling the thin man’s lap, kissing him deeply and letting him tug his shirt over his head.

“I’m hoping this means my brother is healed enough to return to work.” John jumped from Sherlock’s lap, straightening his clothes as best he could and blushing furiously. A tall man stood in the doorway, leaning on an umbrella with a smug expression.

“Mycroft, what a pleasure. Your timing is, as ever, perfect.” Sherlock’s tone was dripping with sarcasm as he rolled his eyes, standing and turning to face the new man.

“M-Mycroft? This is your brother?” John’s face heated further and he became very aware of the fact that his shirt was currently hanging off the back of the sofa.

“Yes John, this is my brother.”

“Pleasure to actually meet you in person Mr. Watson.” John smirked and waved slightly at Mycroft, his discomfort reaching new heights. “I must say Sherlock, I’m slightly jealous. You appear to have landed quite the doctor.” John choked on his breath, lapsing into a coughing fit.

“Please tell me you didn’t watch our tape?” Sherlock sounded disgusted, his face turning a bright red as he glared at his brother.

“Of course, I didn’t, don’t be absurd Brother Mine. I have however, seen some of the infamous Captain Watson’s videos. You are quite the presence onscreen Captain.” The other man stepped closer to John, causing the shorter man to back away. He backed into Sherlock, who pulled him close and all but growled at his brother.

“Why are you here Mycroft? Fighting with Geoff again?”

“My relationship with Greg is none of your concern.”

“Same as my relationship with John.”

“Fine. I was asked to come and see when you can return to work.” Sherlock’s arms tightened around John’s waist.

“You will have to ask John. He is my doctor.” John felt his chest tighten as the odd mix of affection and protectiveness he heard in Sherlock’s voice. He cleared his throat and straightened as much as he could.

“Yeah, not for another couple of weeks. The wound on his stomach is still healing, and not well at that. I’m not comfortable with him returning to filming with it still open like that.”

“But you are more than comfortable with having sex with him yourself?”

“T-That’s not-”

“I think it’s time you left, Brother Dear.” Sherlock snapped, leaning down and kissing John’s neck. Mycroft huffed uncomfortably, glaring at the pair before straightening.

“Very well, I will be in touch. Mummy is expecting you for dinner on Sunday, Brother Mine.” He turned to walk out, pausing just at the threshold. “Bring your companion. I’m sure Mummy would love to hear how you two met.” With that, he left, leaving John and Sherlock alone.

“Well, he’s a peach.” John didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm in his tone as he finally relaxed back into Sherlock’s arms, tilting his head so the taller man could have more access to his neck. Sherlock continued kissing and sucking lightly.

“Hmm. Told you he is unpleasant to deal with.”

“Yeah. Wait, is he dating Greg? As in, Greg With The Clipboard? The one you keep calling Gavin?”

“Unfortunately, yes. They met on set one day when Mycroft came to sign some contracts. Have been together ever since.”

“That’s a little weird.” John gasped as Sherlock spun him in his arms, catching his lips in a searing kiss. He moaned softly as Sherlock’s skilled tongue licked gently into his mouth.

“You know, all this talk of my brother and Gavin is really putting a damper on my mood.” John was breathless, nearly gasping as he was pushed back against the sofa, falling onto the cushions. Sherlock climbed onto his lap and kissed him again, running his cold fingers along John’s chest. “Please John, let me take you. I’m strong enough. My ribs don’t hurt anymore and my concussion is long gone. If it makes you more comfortable you can take me. Please, j-just- please.”

“S-Sherlock- Your- your stomach-”

“It hasn’t bled in days, and the stitches are holding.” Sherlock kissed him again, pulling off his own shirt and showing John the bandages. John checked the wound, still not confident in the stitches holding.

“Sherlock, they won’t hold. And I would rather not have to hold back with you.” Sherlock let out a needy sound and kissed him again, biting at his bottom lip and sucking gently. John could feel his self control slipping with each move the younger man made. Sherlock made a noise of frustration and pushed back, sitting on his heels and tugging at his hair. He looked thoroughly dishevelled, even though nothing had happened yet.

There was something different about this Sherlock, the need and desperation on his face making him look younger, less cold.

“Please tell me you want this as badly as I do John. Tell me I haven’t misread this.” Sherlock whispered, looking slightly helpless. John grinned and pulled the younger man down for a tender kiss. “Tell me what I can do, John. Please, tell me.” Sherlock spoke through gentle kisses, and John felt a spark of excitement light in his gut.

“You want me to command you?” He asked, gripping Sherlock’s curls in his hand and pulling him down to growl the words in the younger man’s ear. “You want me to tell you what you can and cannot do?” Sherlock whimpered and nodded, scrabbling for purchase against John’s chest. The shorter man chuckled darkly as he bit Sherlock’s earlobe gently, pulling a whine from the young man.

“J-John-”

“Never would have pegged you as a submissive Mr. Holmes. I think I might enjoy this.” He tightened his grip on Sherlock’s hair, enjoying the moan that fell from the man’s lips. He pulled until Sherlock’s lips were hovering just above his, not quite touching, but close enough to feel each other’s breath. “Look at you, so desperate for just the slightest taste of me. Is that what you want Sherlock?” The younger man nodded, crying out as John tightened his grip on the dark curls. “Answer me Sherlock.”

“Y-Yes John-”

“Sorry?”

“Y-Yes Captain Watson.” John smirked and leaned to whisper in the submissive young man’s ear again.

“Better. Now, on your knees like a good soldier. Show me what you can do with that clever mouth of yours.” Sherlock scrambled to obey, dropping to his knees between John’s legs and fighting with his belt.

Sherlock finally got his trousers open and John lifted his hips so he could pull them off. He stopped once the trousers were gone, looking up at John with wide eyes. John was almost painfully hard, just watching the young man kneeling in front of him.

“I thought I told you to show me what that pretty mouth of yours can do.” Sherlock’s eyes widened further and he licked his lips.

“Yes Captain.” John’s head dropped back against the back of the sofa as Sherlock’s cold fingers gripped him, stroking him gently a few times before taking him into his mouth.

“Fuck Sherlock.” He moaned as he watched the young man between his knees. He had almost forgotten just how talented Sherlock’s mouth was. He seemed to know all the right places to drive John insane with need. “Oh, you’re a good little soldier, aren’t you Sherlock?” He felt it as Sherlock moaned around him, sending pleasant vibrations along his shaft. He tangled his fingers in the dark curls, tugging just hard enough to pull a moan from the younger man. “God, I can’t wait until you’re healed. The things I’m going to do to you.” Sherlock whimpered, pulling off John’s member and looking up at John.

His lips were red and swollen, glistening with saliva and pre-come. His normally pale eyes were darkened with lust, the pupils blown wide.

“Fuck you’re gorgeous.” John whispered, pulling the young man up to catch his lips in a passionate kiss. He dipped his tongue into Sherlock’s mouth, tasting himself as he did and whimpering. He felt Sherlock wrap his hand around his member and moaned.

He didn’t last much longer, spilling over his chest and Sherlock’s hand.

Once he regained some of his wits, he opened his eyes, catching sight of Sherlock, still kneeling in front of him. He hadn’t touched himself, waiting for his Captain’s command. John grinned at him, cupping his cheek and kissing him softly.

“Such a good boy. Come up here Gorgeous.” Sherlock climbed into his lap, straddling his hips and tucking his face into the crook of John’s neck. “God you’re perfect. Let me help you with that.” He pulled open Sherlock’s trousers and took him in hand, relishing the gasp that came from the young man.

He stroked Sherlock’s member, tightening his grip when he reached the head, running his fingers over the slit and smearing pre-come around. Sherlock started trembling above him, his breath becoming ragged as he started squirming.

“J-John-”

“God, Sherlock you are gorgeous. Look at you, so desperate to come. Do you want to come Sherlock?” The younger man nodded, rocking his hips into John’s fist desperately. John stilled his hand and stopped Sherlock’s hips, earning a whine from him. “I asked you a question.”

“G-God- yes, please Jo- Captain. Please let me come.”

“That’s better.” John growled as he started stroking Sherlock again, adding just the right amount of pressure. It only took a few more pumps before Sherlock was coming, spilling over John’s chest and hand with a cry. He collapsed on top of John, breathing heavily and trembling. John held him through the aftershocks, whispering praise in his ear and rubbing his back.

Once he felt confident that Sherlock was coming down, he pushed the pile of limbs off his chest before standing. He gathered Sherlock in his arms and helped him into the bathroom. He ran a shower for them both, cleaning their mess tenderly and thoroughly, taking care with Sherlock’s wound. Once they were both clean, he pulled the sleepy young man from the shower and dried him off before walking him into the bedroom.

They both fell asleep, Sherlock wrapped protectively in John’s arms.


	6. The Holmes Family

“John?”

“Hmm?”

“Would like to come to dinner with me on Sunday?”

“Isn’t that the day you’re supposed to have dinner with your family?”

“Yes.”

“Are you asking me to meet your parents?” Sherlock hesitated, shifting closer to John’s side and trailing his fingers along the smaller man’s chest and stomach. “Sherlock?”

“I suppose I am.” John down at the dark curls resting on his chest, running his fingers through the hair fondly.

“So, what does that make us?” John hadn’t meant to ask, but he couldn’t help the words as they spilled from his lips. Sherlock propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at John with a near blank expression on his face. It wasn’t the same blank expression that he kept on while filming though, this one made him look younger and almost painfully uncertain.

“I-I don’t know.” John sat up, pulling the lanky man onto his lap and pressing soft kisses to his chest and neck. “I-I’ve never- I don’t-”

“If you would rather not put a label on it right now, that’s fine Sherlock.”

“N-No, I want to- I-I just- how can this work John?”

“We can discuss the logistics later, when you are ready to go back to work. For now, let’s just say that whatever this is, it is what it is.” Sherlock grinned, leaning down and kissing John tenderly. “Sound good Gorgeous?”

“Sounds perfect.” They kissed again, both melting into the slow slide and press of tongues and lips.

“Good. Now, what are we going to tell your parents?” They chuckled, exchanging ideas amongst tender kisses and soft touches.

 

When Sunday rolled around, Sherlock spent the entire day trying to distract John.

“Sherlock, stop. We need to get going or we are going to be late.” John swatted Sherlock’s hands away from his belt for the fifth time since he managed to get them on.

“But John, we have a bit of time. Just let me-” John caught his wrists and spun him so the lanky man was pinned to the bathroom door. Sherlock let out a soft gasp of pleasure at the action, growling as John pinned his wrists above his head.

“Damn it Sherlock, we promised your family we would be there on time. Now, you are going to get dressed, go hail a cab, and we are going to sit through your family’s dinner like adults.”

“And if I don’t behave?” John growled and bit just slightly too hard on Sherlock’s pale collar bone, pulling a pained whimper from the young man.

“If you behave, I might be inclined to change my mind on the status of your stomach wound.” Sherlock stopped fighting John’s grip, stilling almost completely. “If you don’t, I’ll make you wait.” Sherlock whimpered, his head knocking against the door behind him. “Do you understand, Sherlock?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Y-Yes Captain.” John grinned, kissing Sherlock sweetly before letting him go.

“Good. Now, go get ready Gorgeous. We have a dinner to get to.” He winked and sent the taller man off with a pinch on the ass. Giggling at the irritated yelp that came from his lover.

 

The cab ride to the Holmes estate was awkward, Sherlock twitching nervously the whole way. John tried to comfort him, holding his hand and rubbing his thigh softly, but nothing seemed to work.

When they arrived, John was in shock. The place looked huge and old, leaving John feeling incredibly out of place.

“You didn’t tell me your family is rich!”

“It’s not relevant.” John huffed in disbelief, grinning at his lover fondly as they walked up to the door. Sherlock knocked and stepped back, his fingers twitching uncomfortably as they waited.

“You remember the story?” Sherlock asked, suddenly turning to face John, the concern evident on his face.

“Of course, just relax. Everything is going to be fine.” Sherlock pursed his lips uncertainly, looking young and terrified. John took his hand and offered him a soft smile.

Sherlock jumped as the door swung open, revealing an older man. John instantly recognized the man as Sherlock’s father.

Sherlock had clearly gotten his facial features from his father, high cheekbones and a strong jaw. His eyes were darker than Sherlock’s but held the same mischievous glint that John so often saw in the young man’s.

“William! Nice of you to join us this weekend.” Sherlock’s father pulled his son in for a loving hug, patting his back and smiling fondly. “And this must be your friend Mycroft was telling us about.” The man released Sherlock before turning to face John.

“Uh yes. I’m John. Pleasure to meet you Mr. Holmes.” The man looked him up and down before shaking John’s hand.

“Pleased to finally meet you John. Thank you for helping my son.” Mr. Holmes turned and winked at Sherlock, causing the younger man to blush. “Now, before we head in there, do your shirt up one more button son. It would appear that John left his mark and I’m sure the young man wouldn’t want your mother to see that.” John blushed furiously and Sherlock scrambled to cover the bite mark.

Once they were ready, Mr. Holmes led them into the house, chattering away about how glad he was that the boys could join them for dinner. John leaned in close to Sherlock, a gentle grin tugging at his lips.

“William?”

“Shut up.”

“Is that any way to talk to your Captain?” John could practically feel Sherlock tense beside him and sent him a cheeky grin.

“John-”

“Behave Sherlock.”

“I hate you.”

“Nah, you love me.” John winked at him, not missing the crimson tint that rose over the pale man’s cheeks. He fought back his own blush as his own words registered in his mind. “S-sorry I-”

“William!” A short, older woman came flying towards them, nearly knocking Sherlock over with the force of her hug. “Oh, my darling boy! Are you hurting? Have your wounds healed?” She pulled away, cupping the young man’s face and turning his face from side to side.

“Mother, please. I’m fine. John has taken excellent care of me.” Sherlock sent John a devious grin as Mrs. Holmes spun towards him, gripping him in an intense hug, nearly lifting him off the ground.

“I owe you the world young man. Keeping my son healthy, saving his life from those nasty thugs.” She gripped John’s face in her hands and pressed a sloppy kiss to his forehead.

“Uh, it-its no big deal, really-”

“Nonsense. I know how William can be. You are a wonderful man Captain Watson.” She winked, causing John to blush.

“Y-You know-”

“Oh, pish-posh my dear. Where do you think, my son learned his deductive skills?” She winked and walked away, leaving John in a state of shock. Sherlock looked as flustered as John felt and the soldier stepped forward, gritting his teeth.

“So, your mother knows about how we met?”

“It would appear so.”

“Did Mycroft-?”

“Nope. She knows what I do and she must have figured it out when I told her your name.”

“Fantastic.” John rolled his eyes and allowed Sherlock to lead him to the dining room. Mycroft and Greg were propped up against the bar in the corner, talking and laughing with Mr. Holmes. “Oh God, you don’t think your parents watched my videos, do you?” He watched as Sherlock’s eyes widened in horror at the thought.

“Dinner is ready boys.” Sherlock’s mother called, making her way to the end of the table and motioning for everyone to sit. “Take your seats, John you can sit next to William and Greg you are next to Myc.” Everyone sat, John feeling more uncomfortable than he had in a while when he realized how close he was to Mrs. Holmes.

The dinner was interesting, Mrs. Holmes chattering endlessly about how proud she was of her boys, while both flushed in embarrassment. John enjoyed listening to the stories of young William and Mycroft.

After dinner, they all retired to the sitting room, the friendly conversation still flowing. Sherlock finally seemed to relax, leaning back on the sofa and pulling John against his chest, holding him close and tracing gentle circles on his shoulder. Just before John was about to suggest they take their leave, Sherlock leaned down to whisper darkly in his ear.

“Tell me, Captain Watson, have I behaved to your satisfaction tonight?” John bit his lip against the whimper that threatened to fall from his lips. He nodded gently, already starting to squirm. “Excellent. I think it is about time we took our leave.” The younger man sucked lightly on John’s ear, sending a spark of arousal along his spine. “Well, as pleasurable as this has been, my doctor is insisting I get plenty of rest. We shall be taking our leave now.” Sherlock pushed John off his chest, standing and dragging the shorter man to his feet.

“Oh, you boys are welcome to stay here for the night if you would rather. There is more than enough room here.” John felt a flash of fear, worried that Sherlock might just accept the offer.

“Thank you for the generous offer Mrs. Holmes, but there are some things I left back at my place that Sherlock needs. You know, medication and the like.” John said, feeling Mycroft’s gaze fall heavily on him and fighting back a blush.

“Oh? You really are a doctor then?” Mr. Holmes asked, standing and facing John.

“Uh, yes. I was trained in the army.”

“Oh, so you actually are a soldier then? I thought Captain Watson was just your handle.” John flushed, unsure how to respond. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John’s waist protectively, pulling him close.

“Father.” His voice held a warning that sent a terrifying chill down John’s spine. “That is enough.”

“Can you blame me son? Remember what happened the last time you met someone on set?”

“We are leaving.” Sherlock steered John towards the front door, pushing him along brusquely. “Good night all, I will call when I feel like returning for dinner.”

“You will be here next weekend son.”

“I may be, but I refuse to subject John to anymore of your abuse.” With that, John was pushed out the door into the night air.

“Sherlock-”

“Not now John.” John had seen most of Sherlock’s moods, but this one was different, scary almost. It reminded him of some of the younger man’s darker videos.

John wasn’t sure if he liked this side of the Ice King.


	7. This is Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter talks about sexual and physical abuse as well as suicide attempts...

John struggled to keep up with Sherlock, his shorter legs putting him several paces behind his friend. He decided to keep his distance, giving Sherlock the space he needed to brood. It was a long walk back to Sherlock’s flat, and John was not properly dressed for it. Halfway there, John’s shoulder started to ache in the cold. He sped up and grabbed Sherlock’s elbow, forcing the taller man to stop.

“Sherlock!”

“What John?” The younger man snapped, his eyes wide and wet and the tip of his nose red in the icy air. He looked like a little boy and John felt his heart break for him.

“Stop. Let’s get a cab Love. I’m freezing and my shoulder is seizing.”

“You get a cab. I’m going to walk.”

“No. As your doctor and your, whatever the fuck I am to you, I can’t let you just wander the streets this late at night-”

“I’m not a fucking child John!”

“No, but you are upset and hurt, and I care too damned much about you to leave you out here!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t care then!” John froze at those words, feeling the anger and fear pouring off Sherlock’s trembling frame. “Why do you care oh Captain? Not really your area, is it? No, you’re more of a love them and leave them kind of guy, aren’t you? Take what you want and leave them basking in the afterglow right?” John straightened, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall at the harsh words.

“D-Don’t-”

“What’s wrong John? Not used to people standing up to you? I’ll bet no one’s done that since you stood up to your abusive father. How old were you the last time he touched you? Fifteen? Sixteen?” John was crying now, tears falling freely as he stood still, ever the soldier, taking the abuse like he used to.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because this is what I do John!” Sherlock shouted, gripping at his curls and pulling. John could see the panic in the younger man’s eyes and suddenly understood. “I say things and I hurt people and I don’t give a fuck about who I hurt!” Sherlock’s chest started heaving as he appeared to forget how to breathe. His long legs gave out and John caught him before he could hit the ground, gently lowering him onto his knees in the middle of the cold street.

“Jesus Sherlock.” He whispered as he held the panicking man close, rocking him gently in his arms. “Who did this to you?”

“No one John. This is just me.” Sherlock’s voice was broken, the force of the tremors wracking his body causing his voice to shake.

“No. I don’t believe that.” John leaned back, taking Sherlock’s face in his hands and looking into the pale eyes he loved so much. “I’ve seen this before. Whoever did this to you, whoever told you these things, they’re wrong Love. They’re so incredibly wrong. I’ve seen you, the real you, and I know that this is not who you are.” He pulled Sherlock’s face to his and kissed him, softly and lovingly, trying to convey everything he was feeling. Sherlock didn’t respond at first, merely letting John kiss him.

“J-John-” There was a softness to the once broken voice now and John knew he had his lover back. He smiled at the pale man, kissing him softly again. This time, Sherlock responded, sighing as John gently licked into his mouth. “I-I’m so sorry John.” He whispered against the ex-soldier’s lips, mumbling through the barely-there kisses.

“You have nothing to be sorry for Love. Now, can we please get a cab? I can’t feel my fingers.” Sherlock chuckled softly, even the tiny smile lighting up his eyes. “There’s that smile I love seeing.” John kissed him softly once more before pulling the taller man to his feet and stepping to the curb to hail a cab.

 

 

“His name was James.” Sherlock finally spoke, his voice no louder than a deep murmur as John massaged his chest and shoulders. Once they had arrived back at Sherlock’s flat, John coaxed the freezing man into the bath. Sherlock leaned himself back against John’s chest, relaxing into the feeling of John’s fingers massaging his shoulders and chest.

“Who’s name Love?”

“The man my father spoke of.” John made an affirmative sound, his curiosity piquing. He didn’t push though, letting Sherlock speak at his leisure. “You may have heard of him, he is in the industry. James Moriarty.” John couldn’t help tensing at the name.

“You actually dated Moriarty?” John had seen Moriarty’s videos before, he had even been slotted with him once, but bailed on the filming. Moriarty was known for doing hardcore videos, the kind that you didn’t walk away from filming with out some heavy-duty bruises at the very least.

“Yes. We were slotted to film together and there was a connection. Or, he said there was at least. It was my first year filming so I took any job I could get.” Sherlock went quite for a long while, the only sounds filling the bathroom were water splashing and John pressing soft kisses to Sherlock’s neck and shoulders.

“I was young, twenty-one, and still fairly naïve, so it wasn’t hard for him to convince me that he loved me.” John fought back a wave of anger at the thought of someone mistreating Sherlock. “He was strong, dominant, and dangerous and I fell hard.”

“We did five videos together, Moriarty’s fans really enjoyed watching him tear me apart. The videos started off boring enough, just some simple BDSM and rough play. Nothing I hadn’t done before.” John reached back and grabbed Sherlock’s expensive massage oil, needing to distract himself from what he knew was coming. “It took us almost six months to film all the videos, and by the end of it, I was so desperate for it to stop I tried to kill myself.”

“He would torture me at work, then take me home and have his way with me there. No one ever commented on the bruises because that’s what Moriarty does. He takes what he wants and leaves you broken in his wake.” John had stopped fighting the tears, letting them fall over Sherlock’s shoulders as he listened to his lover’s painful story. “My mind would tell me every nasty thing he had planned for me when he would look at me. I wanted it to stop, so I OD’d on heroin, or tried to at least.”

“Moriarty figured it out and everything changed. He helped me through my recovery, apologizing every day and not raising a finger against me. I thought it was over. I thought he truly loved me.”

“A-And then, when he was confident I was fully recovered, he tried to kill me.” John sobbed, muffling his cries against the moist skin of Sherlock’s shoulder. He could hear the tears in Sherlock’s own voice and clung desperately to the younger man, trying to comfort him, to let him know that he was alright.

“He bound and gagged me, same as always, but this time he pulled out a blade and started stabbing me. The only reason I survived was because he did it while we were filming. Got about six stabs in before the crew realized what was happening.” John let his fingers trail along Sherlock’s chest tracing the faint scars he had noticed during their first time together.

“Sherlock?” John’s voice was horse from tears and disuse.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.” John felt Sherlock tense in his arms and he pressed more soft kisses to the younger man’s shoulders and neck.

“J-John I-”

“I don’t care if you aren’t ready to say it back, I-I just want you- need you to know.” Sherlock sat up turning around and straddling John’s legs and kissing him deeply. “God, I’m so sorry Sherlock. No one deserves that. Fuck, I want to kill the son of a bitch!” Sherlock smiled through his tears and cupped John’s face, placing soft kisses over his lips and cheeks.

“You didn’t know me back then John. I wasn’t a good person-”

“No. It doesn’t matter Love. No one deserves to be treated like that.” John leaned up, catching Sherlock’s lips in a kiss that felt like a slow burning fire. “I love you Sherlock.” There were a few moments of silence from the brilliant man above him, but John didn’t feel anything but more love for Sherlock.

“I-I- I-”

“Don’t. Unless you mean it. I don’t want you to feel obligated to love me. You owe me nothing Sherlock, understand? I don’t want to take anything from you that isn’t offered wholeheartedly.” Sherlock kissed him again, gently licking into John’s mouth and sucking on his bottom lip. John whimpered softly and ran his fingers along Sherlock’s spine, pulling a shiver from his pale friend.

“Thank you, John.”


	8. You Have No Right

Since John had deemed Sherlock healthy enough to return to work, the Ice King had been slotted with three different men, none of them John Watson. It wasn’t that John was jealous, they both knew it was going to be this way. Sherlock wasn’t ready to give up filming and John had no right to ask him to. After all, Sherlock didn’t love him.

John was shocked out of his thoughts by his phone ringing. He really needed to remember to change the ringtone.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Watson?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Mycroft Holmes.” John inadvertently straightened in his seat, fighting back a blush. Something about the older Holmes sibling made him incredible uncomfortable.

“Uh, yeah, this is John. What’s up?”

“I was hoping you could come by my office today. I have an offer for you.”

“An offer?”

“Yes. Come by my office in say, an hour? I will email you the address.”

“A-Alright.”

“Good. See you then.” The line went dead and John felt a wave of uncertainty wash over him. He sat at the kitchen table for a while, worrying at his bottom lip and debating whether he should go or not. He jumped a little when he felt Sherlocks arms wrap around his chest. He hummed appreciatively when he felt his lover start to suck a mark onto his shoulder.

“Why are you awake so early?” John chuckled, turning his head to kiss Sherlock softly.

“It’s not early Love. Its one in the afternoon.”

“Oh. You should have woken me sooner. I have filming in an hour.” John swallowed the flare of jealousy and ran his hand through his hair.

“I know. I was just about to wake you. I have to get going too, I’ve got a meeting.” He pushed his chair back and stood, stepping out of the kitchen to grab his book-bag.

“A meeting? With who? I have no memory of you having a meeting today.”

“Yeah, your brother just called. Wants me to meet him at his office in about an hour.” John could almost feel the tension coming from the younger man as he packed up his stuff. “Hey, so I’m going to stay-”

“At your place, tonight. I know.” John stopped packing and closed his eyes, breathing a heavy sigh. Since Sherlock started filming again, John stopped staying over on the nights Sherlock worked. He knew it was childish of him to be jealous, but he couldn’t help it. He hated the thought of being with Sherlock after someone else. “John I-”

“No, don’t. Just, text me later alright? I’ve got to get going.”

“John-”

“Goodbye Sherlock. I love you.” He fled the apartment before Sherlock could say anything else. He knew that Sherlock hated it when he would avoid him like that, but there wasn’t anything he could do. He was so madly in love with the crazy young man that felt nothing for him. He hailed a cab and watched as Sherlock stood by the window, watching him as he was driven away.

 

 

“Mr. Watson, please, take a seat.” John nodded and sat, fidgeting uncomfortably in the high-backed leather chair. Mycroft smirked smugly at him, causing is discomfort to rise in his chest. “Pleasure to see you again.”

“Likewise. What do you want?”

“There is no need to be rude Mr. Watson, I am offering you a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

“A five year contract.” John felt his blood run cold. “You will work for my company for five years, let us schedule your films, who you star with etcetera. You will get paid a minimum £600 per video to start, with the amount to be re-negotiated once every six months.”

“You want me to work for your agency?”

“Yes. You wouldn’t have to worry about fielding your own requests and booking your own shoots. We would do all of that for you. I just need you to sign these papers and then everything will be good.” Mycroft handed John a small stack of papers and a pen.

“So that’s it? I just sign on the dotted line and my soul is yours?”

“This isn’t a crossroads deal John, just a contract.”

“Yeah, a contract that takes away my choice in this.”

“Just sign the papers John. You won’t get very far in this industry without backing, you know that as well as anyone. What I’m offering you is stability. The same stability that my brother has.” John stared at the papers in his hands, worrying at his bottom lip and bouncing his knee.

He should just sign the papers.

Clearly Sherlock had no issue with working while they were together, so why should he? Mycroft wasn’t wrong; stability was something that the porn industry couldn’t offer. He pulled the cap off the pen and hovered it above the line, praying this was the right thing to do.

“John!” He had less than a second to register the voice that suddenly filled the room before he was yanked out of the chair. He yelped as he was dragged from the room, squirming against his attacker’s grip. Mycroft was shouting furiously, but John wasn’t listening. His soldier instinct was kicking in and he tried to fight back, but his mysterious attacker had him by the back of his jacket’s collar.

He cried out as his head connected with the wall. He was being pinned by none other than Sherlock Holmes.

“Sherlock? What the-”

“Don’t sign the contract John.” Sherlock was flushed and breathless.

“Why not? Mycroft made some good points, and its not like you have any issue with me working, right?” John snapped, pushing Sherlock away and smirking darkly. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t sign my life over to your brother?”

“Because I don’t want you to.” John let out a humorless laugh, tugging at his hair and blinking back tears.

“Oh, that’s rich! You don’t want me to work? You don’t like the thought of me fucking other people? I thought you didn’t care?” John watched as Sherlock’s eyes filled with hurt. His heart broke for the younger man, but he didn’t reach out for him. “You have no right, Sherlock. No right!” He shoved Sherlock again, tears finally slipping from his eyes.

“J-John I-”

“I’m done.” His voice was soft and broken, but he saw how the words struck Sherlock as though he used his fists. “I-I thought I could- could do this, whatever the fuck we are, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“John, no. Please!”

“Goodbye Sherlock Holmes. It’s been fun.” John hardened his tone as he turned to walk away, only getting a few steps before Sherlock gripped his elbow and threw him back against the wall. He fought as Sherlock grabbed his chin and kissed him harshly. “Get off me Sherlock.”

“No.”

“Sherlock, let me go!”

“No! Not until you listen to me!” John shook his head, trying to push his way out of Sherlock’s grip, but finding himself pinned. “John, please!”

“Get off!” John managed to worm his way out of Sherlock’s grip, shoving the younger man away before stalking off. He was hurt, angry, and just needed to be alone.

“John! Stop, please!” Sherlock’s voice echoed through the empty hall, breaking John’s heart as he walked away.

He heart stopped at Sherlock’s next words, his blood running a strange mix of too cold and too hot.

“I-I love you.”


	9. No More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT WARNING!!!!!

_“I-I love you.”_

John couldn’t breathe, those three words echoing through his skull louder than anything he had ever experienced. He couldn’t feel anything as his blood seemed to suddenly flow too thick. He was aware of his body being turned around, dragged back against the wall again. He looked up into the pale eyes of Sherlock Holmes and felt his heart break.

Sherlock was speaking, mumbling words that John couldn’t hear through the pounding of his head.

“N-No.” He finally managed to whisper, the sound coming out broken and raw. “N-No, Sherlock. Stop.” He pushed at the taller man, trying to get him off, to get him away. Sherlock refused to budge, taking John’s face in his hands and pressing soft kisses to his cheeks, nose and lips. “Don’t- please don’t.” He begged. He had promised that he wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t guilt Sherlock into loving him. John pushed at Sherlock’s chest, still begging him to stop.

“John, John please. Don’t- don’t leave. I-I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.” Sherlock was mumbling against John’s lips, tears slipping from the corners of his own eyes and he begged for John to stay. “I lo-”

“No. Don’t- don’t do this Sherlock. Please don’t do this.”

“Why won’t you believe me John?”

“Because you don’t mean it.” Sherlock sobbed at those words, pressing his face against the crook of John’s neck and clutching at the shorter man’s shirt. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it Sherlock. I won’t do that to you.”

“Damn it John!” Sherlock shouted, slamming his fist against the wall next to John’s head before spinning away, clutching and tugging at his curls. “You aren’t making me say anything! Don’t you see? I. Love. You.” He stepped closer to John again, taking his face in his hands and punctuated his words with kisses.

John’s heart felt light as he allowed himself to maybe believe the pale man.

“Sherlock-”

“I was going to surprise you. See how long it took you to figure out.”

“F-Figure what out?”

“I quit John.” John’s knees felt weak as those words washed over him.

“God Sherlock-”

“I saw how much my still working was hurting you, and I hated knowing that I was upsetting you. I knew I was losing you, and the thought of that was more than I could bear.” John grabbed Sherlock’s perfect shirt and pulled him in for a deep kiss. When he finally let the taller man go, they were both flushed, breathless, and undeniably aroused. “Please don’t sign the contract John. I don’t care if you want to keep working, I can handle that, just please don’t sign the contract. The thought of you being under my brother’s thumb makes me sick.” John nodded, kissing Sherlock again.

“I-I promise. No contracts. Hell, I’ll quit too.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I don’t want to be with anyone but you Sherlock.” The taller man grinned and pulled John off the wall, dragging him down the hall until he found a supply closet. The pair stumbled in, Sherlock abruptly pinning John to the wall. John felt the air get knocked from his lungs as Sherlock latched roughly onto his neck, biting and sucking a dark purple mark there. “Jesus Sherlock! W-We can’t- someone will hear us.”

“Don’t care.” Sherlock started pulling at John’s shirt, tugging it up and over his head, letting it catch on his wrists. John felt his wrists being raised above his head and gasped as Sherlock snagged his shirt on a hook above his head. He whimpered as Sherlock moved his mouth down to his shoulder, sucking and biting at his bullet wound.

“Sh-Sherlock-”

“I need you John, and I’m going to take you. Then, after I’m done with you here, we are going to go home, and you are going to take me.” John whined as Sherlock bit gently on one of his nipples, bucking his hips against his lover’s and pulling a deep groan from the taller man’s throat.

“G-God Sh-Sher- fuck!” John had lost the ability to speak as Sherlock fought with his trousers, pulling them down to his knees and spinning him around. He bit his lip as he heard Sherlock rustling around for a moment.

He stifled a cry when he felt a cold, slick finger press against his entrance.

Sherlock prepared him as thoroughly and as quickly as he could, and John loved every second of it. Sherlock’s bony fingers were long enough to reach his prostate with ease, gently teasing over the bundle of nerves until John was trembling beneath him.

Once he was ready, Sherlock spun him back around, grabbing him behind the knees and lifting him off his feet. John squirmed as he felt Sherlock adjusting his position until his knees were hooked over Sherlock’s elbows and the taller man was pressing him back against the wall. There was some shuffling as Sherlock slicked his erection and lined himself up with John’s stretched entrance.

John couldn’t hold back the keen that was ripped from his throat as Sherlock pressed in.

It burned, probably more than it should have, but in the haze of arousal, John couldn’t care less.

Once Sherlock was fully seated, John willed his body to relax, nodding at the pale man when he was ready for him to move. He whined as Sherlock started to move within him, slowly at first, then with more force. Every thrust pulled against his prostate and caught his erection between their bodies.

It didn’t take long before he was spilling between them, Sherlock catching his cry in his own lips with a searing kiss. Sherlock followed behind him not long after, filling John with his mess and pressing in as deep as he could. Sherlock reached up and unhooked John’s wrists, letting their bodies slide to the floor in a sticky, sweaty pile of limbs.

They fought for breath as they came down, John clinging desperately to Sherlock while he sucked more marks to John’s neck and chest.

“God I love you.” He whispered, grinning as Sherlock whimpered and kissed him, sucking on his bottom lip gently.

“I love you too John.”

“What the hell are we going to do now?”

“Go home and-” John laughed and bit Sherlock’s shoulder playfully, enjoying the feeling of the taller man laughing against him.

“Not what I mean you Berk. I mean, now that we have both quit?” Sherlock huffed, pressing soft kisses to his scar.

“I have always wanted to raise bees-”

“There is no way in hell you are getting a beehive in that flat.”

“Fine. I still have some friends down at New Scotland Yard. Want to help me solve crimes? I used to be pretty good at it.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“It is.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Then fuck yes.” John laughed against Sherlock’s shoulder, sucking his own mark into the pale skin there. “Looks like I managed the impossible.”

“Hmm?”

“I melted the Ice King.” Sherlock pulled back and caught John’s eyes, his own filled with love and promises.

“My Love, you started melting me the first day we met.”


End file.
